by James Swain
“For how long?” he asked.
“Until I come and get you,” Grimes said.
“Something wrong?”
“Who said something was wrong?”
“Just a hunch. You’d make a lousy poker player.”
“Be a good boy and go downstairs and wait with your driver. I won’t be long.”
Billy decided not to push his luck. He found Leon fast asleep on the bench in the hall. He gently shook his driver awake, and they took an elevator downstairs to wait in the lobby. Leon was strong enough to walk and managed a brave smile.
The lobby was filled with the worst miscreants that Sin City had to offer. People who got arrested tended to be losers, and their families and immediate friends were bigger losers. Billy and Leon parked themselves on two plastic chairs in a corner.
“Who took out Travis?” his driver whispered.
“Morris,” Billy whispered back.
“Man, that’s a surprise. Didn’t think he had the balls.”
“Me neither.”
“I saw Grimes holding Travis’s phone. What if he finds our phone numbers on it?”
“Not going to happen.”
“You scrubbed them?”
Billy nodded. Cory had gone through Travis’s phone and erased all ties to Billy and the crew, including contact info, phone calls, and text messages. The only person who could be tied to Travis through his cell phone was Broken Tooth. It was a nice, tidy package, done up in pretty wrapping paper and tied with a bow. Billy hoped Grimes appreciated the effort.
Twenty minutes later, Grimes came downstairs and motioned for them to follow him outside. Standing on the curb, Grimes glanced in both directions before speaking. “I’ve been told to keep a lid on this. How good are you two gents at keeping your yaps shut?”
Billy laughed under his breath. So that was why Grimes had gotten pulled out of the interrogation room. His superiors had caught wind of the bust and were afraid of the ensuing negative publicity. When it came to keeping secrets, the city of Las Vegas had no equal.
“For how long?” Billy asked.
“Until the Super Bowl’s over,” Grimes replied. “My boss spoke to the head of league security with the NFL and told him of Broken Tooth’s plans. My boss said that no players were involved, but do you think that mattered? No sir. It didn’t matter one bit.”
“The head of league security told you to put a lid on it, and you agreed?” Billy said skeptically.
“Hardly. The head of league security called the commissioner of the NFL, the commissioner called the mayor, the mayor called my boss, and my boss ordered me to put the kibosh on this until the game’s over. You know what they say. Shit flows downhill.”
“So you’re not charging Broken Tooth with fixing the big game,” Billy said.
“That will come later,” Grimes said. “Right now, Broken Tooth is charged with killing Travis Simpson. We have enough evidence to make that charge stick. When the Super Bowl’s over, we’ll add the other charge of conspiracy to fix a sporting event. Until that happens, you boys need to keep quiet as church mice. You can’t breathe a word of this to your friends or anyone else. That goes for your crew. Think you’re up to the challenge?”
“Sure,” Leon said.
“I don’t have a crew,” Billy said.
“Then why do you need a limo driver for your jobs?” Grimes snorted.
Billy didn’t have an answer for that one. Grimes gave them a parting snarl and went back inside. Billy took out his wallet and handed Leon some money. “Do me a favor and take a cab home. I need to talk to Grimes in private.”
Leon stuffed the money into his pocket. “When I first went to work for you, I thought you were a prick, didn’t care about nobody but yourself. Thanks for proving me wrong.”
Leon walked down to the corner of the street. There was usually a yellow cab trolling the area around the jail looking for an easy fare. Billy went back inside and spotted Grimes punching an access code into a door reserved for law enforcement.
“Hold on,” he said.
The special agent turned to face him. “What do you want?”
“Five minutes of your time.”
“I’m busy.”
“You changed the terms of our deal.”
“As I just explained to you, I didn’t have a choice.”
“I brought this deal to you, remember? I held up my end of the bargain and delivered Broken Tooth, and now you’re changing the terms.”
“It was out of my hands,” Grimes said, his mouth growing tight.
“You change the deal, I want something in return, or I won’t play ball with you.”
“You can’t bolt now.”
“Try me.”
Back outside they went. Leon was gone, and the air pulsed with the blare of a distant police siren. Grimes was at his best when he was calling the shots. That wasn’t the case now, and the special agent squirmed beneath the glare of the harsh streetlight.
“Spit it out, before I choke it out of you,” Grimes said.
Billy crossed his arms in front of his chest, savoring the moment. When he felt Grimes had had enough torture, he told the special agent what he wanted.
FORTY-ONE
The evening had started innocently enough. Amber had wanted to check out the shops on the promenade tucked on a narrow strip of real estate between the Flamingo Hotel and the LINQ. Seeing a chance to do some mother/daughter bonding, Mags had agreed.
The promenade was nothing to write home about. Overpriced sunglasses, brightly colored sneakers made in China, and a shop that turned cell phone photos into priceless memories to last a lifetime. The stores were mostly empty and would be gone in a few months.
The excursion was starting to feel strained. Mags had spent so little time with Amber during her daughter’s upbringing that it was difficult to have a casual conversation about even the most mundane topics. Mags didn’t know her daughter’s likes, dislikes, dreams, or the things that made her happy. It was a big blank canvas.
When all else fails, get something to eat. Mags offered to buy dinner, and Amber said okay. The promenade featured a host of restaurants that served everything from barbecue to sushi. Mags had heard good things about a Mexican joint called Chayo, so they went there.
Chayo had a hopping bar that served fifty brands of tequila and a mechanical bull in the center of the room. Bull rides cost a few bucks and lasted a minute, if the rider could stay on. Some businessmen were betting one another who could stay on the bull the longest.
The hostess seated them next to the action, then a waitress took their order. Corn cakes stuffed with grilled chicken and two margaritas. The drinks came before the food. They banged them back and got settled in. Mags ordered another round.
“That blond guy’s got Velcro on his butt,” Amber said. “He hasn’t fallen off once.”
“He’s a ringer,” Mags said.
Their food came, sizzling hot. Mags blew on a corn cake before taking a bite. It was still too hot, and she sucked down a mouthful of her drink to put out the fire.
“How do you eat so much and manage to stay so thin?” Amber asked.
“Nerves,” Mags said.
“You’re not forcing yourself to throw up, are you?”
Mags shook her head and kept eating. She’d stepped on the scale in her suite this morning and done a double take. She was a pound below her high school weight, and it had nothing to do with her diet, which consisted primarily of room-service food. Being an actress was eating a hole in her, not that Rand or anyone else on the set seemed to care. She looked great on camera, and that was all that mattered when shooting a TV show.
“If that guy’s a ringer, what’s he doing?” Amber asked.
“He’s working a scam with the bartender,” Mags explained. “Each guy has a shot of tequila before he gets on the bull. The bartender is pouring out of a different bottle for his partner. I’m guessing it’s colored water. The blond guy acts drunk, but he isn’t. He’s also real
ly good on the bull. Probably comes in after hours and practices. He’s a hustler.”
“Is there any game in this town that isn’t rigged?”
“Hell no. How do you think they pay for those chandeliers and fancy carpets?”
“That’s funny, Mom. Do you miss it?”
“You mean the grifting?” Mags wiped her mouth with a napkin. “It was a huge rush. After I took down a sucker, I’d be on cloud nine. And it never got old.”
“Then why did you quit?”
“Because of guys like Frank Grimes trying to throw me in jail, that’s why.”
Amber fell mute. Talk about killing a buzz. Mags waved at the waitress. A fresh round of drinks appeared as if by magic.
“You don’t like talking about this stuff, do you?” Amber asked.
“It’s the past, honey. I walked away from it.”
“Do you have any regrets?”
Mags turned in her chair so she faced the mechanical bull. The blond guy wasn’t giving the suckers a chance. Winning too much, too often, had killed many a scam. If Blondie was smart, he’d fall off and lose a few times. That was the best way to keep suckers in the game.
Amber held a pair of dice beneath her mother’s nose. They looked familiar, and Mags rolled them in her palm. One was normal, while the other only had fives and sixes printed on it.
“Where’d you find these?”
“In a drawer in your bedroom. Grandma said they were the reason you left Providence.”
“What else did she tell you?”
“Grandma said you were afraid of going to jail and my getting stuck in a foster home, so you turned my custody over to them and left. She said you did it to protect me.”
“She’s right.”
“Will you tell me the story behind the dice?”
“If I do, can we end this conversation?”
“Sure, Mom.”
“The scam’s called the Tat. I pulled it during happy hour in bars. I’d sit at the bar and wait for some suckers to come in after work. They’d always want to buy me a drink. That’s when I’d signal the bartender to start the play.”
“The bartender was involved?”
“You bet. It made the play look legit. A paper cup with a die sat by the register. The bartender would offer to roll the sucker for the drink. The bartender would shake the die inside the cup, then look at the number facing up. He did this three times and added up his total. Then it was the sucker’s turn. If the sucker’s total was higher, his drink was free. If it was lower, he paid double.”
“When the game was over, I asked to play. The suckers always said yes. At first, it was for drinks. Then we’d graduate to money. Five bucks a game, then ten, then twenty. I’d lose a few rounds and wait until the bets got big. Then I went for the kill.”
Mags rolled the dice on the table and smiled at the memory.
“You haven’t explained how the scam works,” her daughter said.
“It’s simple. The mis-spotted die was hidden in my pocket. When I wanted to rip off the sucker, I switched it for the regular die and rolled nothing but fives and sixes. The sucker didn’t notice because only the top side of the die can be seen inside the cup. I’d switch the normal die back into play to clean up. The gaffed die went into my pocket with the winnings.”
“What if the sucker also rolled fives and sixes? You might lose.”
“Not likely. The odds of rolling a five or six are two in six. Multiply that by three, and the odds grow to one in twenty-seven. I’ll take those odds all day long.”
Amber returned the dice to her purse. The mystery had been explained, and the look on her daughter’s face bothered Mags. “I want you to promise me you’ll never try this.”
“Mom, I already told you—”
“Everybody’s honest when they can afford to be. One day when you’re down on your luck, you might decide to try the Tat. Promise me that you won’t.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Yes, I trust you. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be tempted.”
“All right, Mom. I promise I won’t try the Tat. Ever.”
They shook pinkies on it, and things were good again. The sound of a cell phone broke the spell. Amber pulled hers out and stared at the face.
“Must be yours, Mom.”
Mags took out her iPhone. It was Billy, and she let the call go into voice mail. A minute later, he called her again. “Not now,” she answered. “I’ll call you later.”
“Your problem’s all fixed,” Billy said.
She nearly dropped the phone. “You saw Grimes?”
“You could say we spent the afternoon together.”
“He’s going to leave me alone?”
“Grimes gave me his word he’ll stop hassling you. If he ever bothers you again, give me a call, and I’ll straighten him out.”
“You blackmailed him, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did. Are we square?”
“Yeah, Billy, we’re square.”
“Now go be a TV star.”
“I’ll do that, Billy. Thank you.”
She said good-bye and put away her iPhone. The sneaky little shit had pulled through and done right by her. There weren’t many cheats she could say that about. Hell, there weren’t that many people she could say that about.
“Mom, why are you crying? What did he say?”
“Billy fixed my problem. The gaming board is off my ass.”
“Wow—that was fast.”
Fairy tales did come true, even in a world like hers. Mags flagged down the waitress.
“Get us another round,” she said. “We’re celebrating.”
FORTY-TWO
Billy sat at the dining room table in his condo, sipping a bourbon. The five hundred grand they’d stolen from Broken Tooth sat in a towering pile at the table’s center. Some heists were sweeter than others, and this one had a special taste all its own.
The gaming board would eventually learn that the money in their possession was bogus. A bank would give them the bad news, or a gaming agent would steal some of the money and attempt to spend it. And then all hell would break loose.
Billy didn’t care. As far as the gaming board was concerned, Billy had never touched the money and could not be blamed for the fact that it was counterfeit.
Billy’s crew had blown out of town. Cory and Morris had flown to Cancun and were staying in Billy’s beachfront condo, Gabe had gone to San Diego to spend time with his ex and his two daughters, while Misty and Pepper were LA-bound for some R&R. Billy had told them to enjoy their time off and that he’d contact them when it was safe for them to return home.
He drained his glass. He needed to go see Night Train and break the bad news that the NFL knew that he’d been approached to fix the Super Bowl. The NFL would put so much heat on the game that Billy didn’t think Night Train would want to risk fixing a single play.
He poured himself a fresh bourbon. The fix had just gone down the toilet, and so had Victor’s super con. On the plus side, Leon was still breathing, and Mags could pursue her acting career without interference. It hadn’t worked out all bad.
He took his drink onto the balcony. The Strip’s blinking neon called to him like a gang of childhood friends wanting him to come out and play. Not tonight. The gunshot blasts from the shootout were still ringing in his ears, and he needed to sleep them off.
Inside the condo, his cell phone rang. His crew was supposed to call only in case of an emergency. He went inside and retrieved his cell phone from the table. It was Victor.
“I was going to give you a call,” he said. “Grimes found the rented house and just missed busting your family. I got him off your scent, but I can’t promise you much more.”
“How did you get him off our scent?” Victor asked.
“It’s a long story. Did your kids make it back to Sacramento okay?”
“Everyone got home in one piece, thanks to you.”
“Anytime, Victor.”
“I wan
t to ask you a question, Billy, and you need to be up front with me. Nico wants to hit Vegas next week and pull the super con. He thinks that we can wear disguises and get away with it. I don’t think that’s wise. Vegas is your town. What do you think?”
Billy hesitated. Nico was Victor’s favorite son, so he crafted his response carefully. “I think that would be unwise. Your family isn’t off the gaming board’s radar. Grimes will create profiles of Nico, Kat, and Tommy and share them with the town’s casinos. I hate to tell you, Victor, but your family needs to stay away from Vegas for a while.”
“Nico thinks disguises will work. Not so?”
“You can’t hide who you are. You left enough information at your rented house for the gaming board to find you. They picked through garbage cans to see what kind of food your family likes to eat. And they’ll contact the cable company and find out which programs and movies you watched during your stay.”
“There’s a record of that?”
“Yes. The smart box on every TV records the shows that are watched.”
“What good does that do them?”
“It’s all about information. Let’s say your family returns to Vegas and stays at Aria. Nico goes into the casino, and the facial recognition program built into the eye-in-the-sky spots him. Nico’s in disguise, so the casino can’t be entirely sure it’s him, so they follow him.
“Nico goes to a restaurant and orders a burger. The casino checks the profile and sees that your family likes McDonald’s hamburgers based upon what they found in your garbage. Then Nico goes to his room and watches TV. The casino compares the programs to those watched at the rented house. Maybe Nico likes rugby on ESPN, and there’s a record of that from the house. Those are three matches, so the casino contacts the gaming board and relays their suspicions. The gaming board will put Nico under surveillance, which is the kiss of death.”
“I didn’t know the gaming board was that sophisticated,” Victor said.
“Afraid so. And they’re getting better every day.”
“Can we ever come back?”
“Give it a year. Pick a busy holiday weekend and stay in a hotel off the Strip. You’ll fly under the radar. It’s all about picking your spots. It’s how I’ve lasted so long.”